migration

In early September, the weather cooled. I took the back roads to work one morning with the car windows cracked open, enjoying the fresh morning air. I tend to have blinders on when I drive, just ask those who wave and honk. I rarely see past the traffic before me. But that day, the chatter of birds broke through me reverie as I waited for the light to change. Hundreds of dark colored birds lined the telephone lines, perched on top of streetlights and business signs. A chorus of sound which drowned out all but the loudest traffic.

Several times in the next few weeks, I took the back roads to and from work. Often I would see a sparrows, grackles, geese or other flock of birds traveling southward to warmer climates, their fluid, amoebic groups in the sunny skies, moving—shifting—dancing an aviary ballet of sorts as they continued on their journey.

Lately, on the Palladia channel I’ve seen the coolest commercial. A flock of animated black birds in flight which then morph into details of birch trees and then the perspective shifts yet again into a forest birches and other trees as the ‘camera’ pulls back. It’s a commercial that stops me in my tracks, transfixing me through completion of the animation. The change in perspective, the change in subject is fascinating.

The images and activities of my aviary friends continued.

A lone hawk sitting atop a fence post, scanning the fields, hunting for dinner as the sun dims on the horizon during my commute home.

A small flock of birds, one early morning, startled into flight from our pear tree in the front yard as I took out the dogs for their ‘constitutional’. The dogs stood, transfixed by the rising mass of birds and muffled sounds of wing flaps. We all watched them rise into the air and depart before moving on to other business.

Birds dotting the lines between telephone posts along the road like Morse Code. I wondered what the words said. SOS?

Empty bird feeders swinging on tree limbs in our windy backyard. No birds in sight. For if the food gone, so are the birds, hunger drives them to look elsewhere.

Birds migrate in cycles including those made in response to changes in food availability, habitat or weather. Habitat and weather changes are usually irregular or in only one direction. Migration is marked by its annual seasonality. In contrast, birds that are non-migratory are known as resident birds. Migrating birds vary migration travels, some short, some long as they move through this cycle. Some lose their way, most regain direction through the magnetic pull of their migrating pattern.

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It’s been a very long time since I’ve blogged in any sort of thoughtful manner. Part of it was time available to write. A new job and shifts in family life have kept my schedule rather packed, but this has not been the entire reason. I wouldn’t call my current spiritual state ‘a crises,’ but I must admit it has not been peaceful, steady, or void of some serious drama and frustration. For several months, I’ve noticed a steady decline in spiritual direction and desire to pursue it . . .fire dimmed a bit, you might say. I in no way believe following Christ is all ups and blessings. That line of thought has gotten many of us in a state of entitlement within Christianity that has dangerous pathways of disappointment and defeat. I do believe that a spiritual growth ebbs and flows as does the pattern of its pursuit.

I’ve noticed that within a discipleship journey I tend to close off conversation with God when I am under the most duress, thinking I can control my emotion, the situation or some aspect until it is ‘resolved’ to my satisfaction. My instinct is to look to my own ability to interpret and understand why. The worse it gets the more of a control freak I become, the less I turn to God for understanding and guidance. Yeah, counter intuitive, I know.

Do you listen in on God’s council?
Do you limit wisdom to yourself? Job 15:8

It is very easy these days to preoccupy myself with other things. Lately, I’ve found myself driving to soccer or work or the grocery store, listening to books or music. I’ve played single parent for more weeks that I care to admit due to some shifts in Wayne’s job responsibilities. I’ve used online communities, movies, TV–any entertainment at my fingertips, to distract myself often from deep thought as I bounce from place to place, from event or obligation to home and work.

Conversation with God dwindled to almost nothing. Even those conversations seemed one-sided monologues, prayers for others done out of duty and habit. I was talking to God less and less. More importantly, I was not listening either.

Show me your ways, O LORD, teach me your paths; guide me in your truth and teach me, for you are God my Savior, and my hope is in you all day long. Remember, O LORD, your great mercy and love, for they are from of old. Psalm 25:4-6

But for the past two months, I’ve been subject to these bird whispers, these subtle words of God breaking through the din of everyday life and my insulated turtle shell. Through the amoebic movement of a migrating flock—through the chatter of that flock as I stop for a train. I knew it was God, but I had no gumption to listen. No inclination to ponder why I was seeing all these bird signs of migration, of community, of loners, of transitions. I sat in my misery wondering about everything. As we all know, blind birds don’t really go very far.

My best thinking, you see, is when I write. Focusing on the blank page, talking out my ideas is where revelation comes. So when the chatter of birds drown out the din of my distractions, I sat down to write this. With the tenacity that only God can employ, I now understand the message delivered in the wings of birds, in sky silhouettes traveling to places far away, in the groups and flocks migrating through the cycles of the season.

It’s okay, Deana, I’m still here. Time to move on.

A wolf, a Charlotte and Mrs. T

“If you think of this world as a place intended simply for our happiness, you find it quite intolerable: think of it as a place of training and correction and it’s not so bad” –C. S. Lewis

Some of you may already know my knack for discovering spiders in our basement around this time of year as I blogged about it last Fall. (check it out here ) Yes, October is approaching, usually the month when I see the most arachnids in our basement laundry room, yet I’ve already had several spider encounters recently. Let me share.

Imagine my duress to stumble on a rather large wolf spider sauntering through the bedroom door in the early morning light in August. Mind you, this spider had to make it up two sets of stairs and three cats to make it this far. Why this room? There are others before it in the hall after all. Yet here it stood in 8 sturdy legs. Seriously, do I have spider magnet or something? You would think that I would at lead get SOME sort of spidey power for the bites I’ve received in my life. Nope. Nada. No web spinning or swinging from buildings. But I digress. Several pounding objects later including a journal, book and shoe, plus a few exclamations of distain from me, the now flattened adventurous Wolf Spider Columbus was on his way to the new world via a toilet flush in a Kleenex boat. Each instance like this draws me closer to spraying for bugs around the house. I’ve not given in yet, though.

For the second time in my life, “Charlotte” has now appeared outside our front door, spinning a nightly web. She creates her web art between the porch light and rail, neatly tidying up in the morning. My mother and I named a similar spider that who spun webs in the small rectangular window next to our front door one summer many years ago. It was fascinating watching through glass as it spun a web each night, caught meals, ate, then took down the web each morning. I learned a lot about Charlottes that summer and their practices, feeling safe inside as I observed. That Charlotte met an early demise as it poorly chose to scurry across the path of my spider-hating brother one day as he came in the front door. No more Charlotte. This new Charlotte smartly scurries up into the light fixture when we open the door, but more than once I’ve almost backed into the web as I took the dogs, Charlotte deep in ‘web management”, still in the center, waiting for a “Delicious Dish”. I’ve kept with my policy of outdoors ‘ok’ indoors ‘dead’ and it lives on. That is, unless Charlotte finds her way on me. Then all policies are null and void.

Now a new and much larger “Charlotte” has entered into my life. You see, my daughter’s 4th grade teacher has a spider for a PET in the classroom. GAH! This is not ordinary garden variety spider, but and biggest tarantula I’ve ever seen. In fact, the teacher noted, “She molted this summer and is much bigger now.” Holy cow people, the BODY of that arachnid was as big as a man’s palm. I know this because one of the fathers during school open house held it. Shivers ran down my spine as I approached the room and saw hefty ‘Charlotte’ in the doorway area on the teacher’s arm. No, Charlotte is not an appropriate name for that brutish mass of hair and goo. It is by no means as delicate and articulate as the E.B. White’s Charlotte conversing with Wilber and crating fantastic advertising web. It is big, brutish, hairy, by its mere size it reeks of attitude. Therefore, I call it Mrs. T. So there I stood, wondering–should I stay outside or try skirt the whole scene to get into the room? Even Kayla seemed a bit timid to enter the room to check out her new desk and class.

One thing I’ve learned as a past teacher and now parent is my daughter, and other children for that matter, observe and imitate grownups quite often, especially in cases of fear. When teaching after school programs in Mililani, HI, decades ago, I knew if I overreacted to something such as a banana spider or centipede in the classroom, I was guaranteed a rounding chorus of the same type of scream and reaction from 25 Kindergarteners. With that in mind, I approached “Mrs. T” without comment and listened to what the teacher. “You can pet her.” “Pet her very gently on her body here” “If these antennae come up, she is agitated, so stop” On and on she went, instructing timid students and grownups how to touch her gargantuan friend.

“So what your telling me is that I’m all tied up inside…baby steps untie your knots” “Baby steps. Baby steps.” Bob Wiley in What about Bob

Finally I bucked up and pet the blasted thing exactly three passes over Mrs. T’s abdomen. I did this in part to show Kayla it was okay (she did not pet Charlotte that night, she informed me the next week that she pet the spider, too, in class). I also did it to overcome this fear of spiders. And I have to admit also that part of it was to be able to say, “I’ve pet a tarantula and it wasn’t so bad.” Now the deed is done, the baby step taken towards a more reasonable view and treatment of spiders.

Some could say spiritual journeys of discipleship are similar to my tarantula experience. Constant growth through learning, trusting, sticking out our necks to change our opinion, our direction, not matter how small the step is progress.

I think that many of us, when Christ has enabled us to overcome 1 or 2 sins that were an obvious nuisance, are inclined to feel..that now we are good enough. He has done all we wanted Him to do and we should be obliged if He would now leave us alone.” –C. S. Lewis

Often I think our American dream of big, fast, quick, successful does a lot to damage those seeking God and Christ. We are taught to believe success likes in the large, visible changes in character to show success. These are most often noted and celebrated such as a baptism, a ‘conversion’ “public confession” or ‘confirmation”. These are very important, but not where most the real work of spiritual growth is done. We can say, we’ve taken major steps with these celebrations, yet God is constantly reaching to us from the next thing or place we need to be, pulling us forward through our daily lives, not allowing us to get to comfortable with our past resumes.

It’s that small decision on how to react or change, the seemingly inane choices we make that make a differences. “Should I get down on that person? Should I be mad or forgive and let it pass? Should I be generous? Should I acknowledge that person and let them into my lane of traffic? Should I spend my time leisurely at movies or on the computer or should I find a way to help for others? Should I hoard my money or find places where it is need more than my bank account?” Indeed, changes in spiritual character often come in the trenches. It involves taking risks and leaving the safety of what we know ‘works for us”, those often stagnant places of comfort. God’s pull on our lives to grow in discipleship is loving, constant and absolutely relentless. Yes, there are back steps, but overall, spiritual growth spring boards off this momentum, often performed with trepidation, uncertainty, and a bit of fear of the unknown, reaching out for the hand than leads us onward.

“Good and evil both increase at compound interest. That is why the little decisions you and I make everyday are of such infinite importance.” –C. S. Lewis

As for my spider encounters? Well, there are conferences in October in my daughter’s classroom, so I imagine, small steps will occur as I again visit the tarantula’s lair.

“Baby step to four o’clock. Baby step to four o’clock,” Bob Wiley in What About Bob.

a testimony of treading water, garages and creativity

A long time ago, I was bent on being famous in fiber art. Most of my extra time was for this purpose. Weekends, evenings after work deep into the night were spent creating art in my studio, honing my craft. My end game were competing in exhibits, selling work and looking towards when I would be a part of museum collections. I spent other time updating a website store, buying supplies, teaching and conversing with other fiber artists to extend my network online. I thought about ideas for creating pieces while I drove to my 9-5 job and sketched out ideas on scraps of paper during droning meetings. I dreamed of quilting patterns as I walked at night and as I did the laundry. And for my efforts, I reaped some benefits of all that energy. But in retrospect it was a lot like spiritually treading water.

A little over 5 years ago, several of the people I know began the journey of starting a new church in our town. We knew it would be lots of work and time commitment, but most of us felt the call to do so. But really, we had no idea what this would really be like. None of us had ever planted a church before. It was about half way through this time that I realized that God really wasn’t in my life that much. I had put God in the garage so to speak. God was still accessible, but truly not part of my daily living space. For most of my life, I gave God little thought outside of any ‘church activity’ such as worship, church events and the like. My life was God or other, not both.

Convenient

Compartmentalized

Safe

But as my service to planting this church increased, I realized this view would have to give way to something else.

Our God is a wild God, and cannot be tamed. God cannot be defined, categorized or controlled. God is God and we are not, no matter how much we try to lord over our lives. I began to understand this as I learned to practice the presence of God, to read the scripture more and wrestle with it, to learn to talk to God anytime. Often my talks or prayers were not the calm, eyes closed version of contemplative prayer. Indeed, I raged and lamented to God with my eyes wide open, openly yelling in protest and anger. But through this God let me rail and wriggle but kept whispering what had to be done next. Then in slow AND in great leaps. . . things starting shifting.

Unnecessary commitments dropped. I spent my time, my energy in different directions, for different reasons. I began to realize that discipleship was more than going to church on Sundays. Discipleship was a mix of joy and sacrifice, sometimes pleasant and often unpleasant and confusing, challenging my perception of the word Christian. This was not the bill of goods my born-again colleagues touted in college. There some tried to convince me that being saved for heaven was within my grasp if I just said a certain paragraph of word and I was ‘in.’ It seemed to good to be true, and now I know it isn’t that easy. This was not what I understood from my UMC roots. This did not fit any of my experiences in various churches and denominations as we traipsed across the country during my husband’s Navy years. God was in my face all the time. God was making me look into the mirror or myself and there when I cringed at what I saw.

For some reason I never put it all together until recently. I am a firm believer that there are many time lines in spiritual growth (not everyone is at the same place at the same time). God uses all in the time that is needed based on who we are. Indeed, I am often more like doubting Thomas than I care to admit. Therefore, I must put myself in the spiritual late bloomer category, giving new meaning to the phrase, “Great Awakening”. I learned that instead of the easy road, discipleship will require much more than just some words, it requires action, a lot of tripping on bumpy roads and several roller coaster rides. It requires constant challenge and transformation. The journey is messy, gritty, and unpredictable. It requires me to be more foolish and less cool. It shows me my pride and humbles me in the same instance. The more I listen to God whispers the less controlled and contained my life becomes. Yeah, God does drive me crazy.

What I do now is so different than 5 years ago. And even in the past year, this has shifted to a more intense focus on areas of concern to God…poverty, justice of the oppressed and mercy. This is so different than me from the past ‘famous artist’ stage where I had no time to commit to service projects or extra money for charities. I read a lot more as well. Bell, Claiborne, Willard, Zacharias, McLaren, Yancey, Wright, Lewis, and Miller have challenged my understanding of Christian discipleship, service and sacrifice. Now God lives not only in my house, but in other places I go . . . work, play, the kitchen, the bathroom, the backyard and places in between. As my good friend Ben Simpson said last week in his sermon, the spirit of God fills our cups and overflows into our lives and those around us. It seems that right now, I am always stepping in spilled water from my cup or someone else’s.  The scales are off my eyes and my lenses are focused on what needs to be done in God’s Kingdom.

I do still create, but with words, not fabrics. I used to write a lot before the artist thing. Now I am back at it, one of my original loves. If only a few people read my blogs, that’s okay. I will still write as it is truly how I process thoughts and this discipleship ride. I still have the studio, but it is for the most part, inactive and I’m not sorry for it. It seems as if others are more concerned about my lack of ‘art piece production’ than I am.

Instead my thoughts are on other things. Mostly Micah 6:8, Isaiah, Genesis 11 and 12, all of James and Jesus.

Now as I drive, do dishes or walk, my creativity focuses on ways to affect what is happening in Darfur, how the children in Tanzania and Uganda our family sponsors are doing, how to help fulfill the needs of the hungry and homeless, what is the best way to be a socially-conscious consumer, how can I pass this passion on to the youth of our church and my daughter and also trying to move towards being as green as possible. My time is also spent talking to God about these things and in prayer for others. For me, this is a better type of creativity. Onward.

My friends, what good is it to say you have faith, when you don’t do anything to show that you really do have faith? Can that kind of faith save you? If you know someone who doesn’t have any clothes or food, you shouldn’t just say, “I hope all goes well for you. I hope you will be warm and have plenty to eat.” What good is it to say this, unless you do something to help? Faith that doesn’t lead us to do good deeds is all alone and dead!

Suppose someone disagrees and says, “It is possible to have faith without doing kind deeds.”

I would answer, “Prove that you have faith without doing kind deeds, and I will prove that I have faith by doing them.” You surely believe there is only one God. That’s fine. Even demons believe this, and it makes them shake with fear.

Does some stupid person want proof that faith without deeds is useless? Well, our ancestor Abraham pleased God by putting his son Isaac on the altar to sacrifice him. Now you see how Abraham’s faith and deeds worked together. He proved that his faith was real by what he did. This is what the Scriptures mean by saying, “Abraham had faith in God, and God was pleased with him.” That’s how Abraham became God’s friend.

You can now see that we please God by what we do and not only by what we believe. For example, Rahab had been a prostitute. But she pleased God when she welcomed the spies and sent them home by another way. Anyone who doesn’t breathe is dead, and faith that doesn’t do anything is just as dead! James 2: 14-26

a new song

“Expect to have hope rekindled. Expect your prayers to be answered in wondrous ways. The dry seasons in life do not last. The spring rains will come again.” Sarah Ban Breathnach

The first time I pulled an all nighter I was in 6th grade. It was at a 12th birthday party sleep over for Sarah Terrell. After a night of too much junk food and the threat of frozen underwear for those who went to bed too early, most settled down to whisper in their sleeping bags by 4 AM. It was around 5:30 when the last of the stragglers finally fell asleep and I was alone with the dawn. I went out on to the steps in the cold April air, thrilled with the fact that I actually made it. I stayed up all night!

As the sun rose, I listened to birds, the first time that spring. In Iowa, Spring comes later than Kansas as it is a full growing zone colder. I heard the red-wing black birds and especially robins. Hearing robins and seeing them dot lawn landscapes has always meant a change of seasons to me. A change I eagerly wait for each year. This week, I heard and saw robins, highly appropriate since Spring began in the wee hours of March 20. Unlike Iowa, spring arrives on time in Kansas.

Each year, I am amazed at how much I missed birds chirping as I take the dogs out in the morning. Hearing them usher I the day with beautiful chirps and trills perks up not only my dogs’ ears, but mine as well. The birds sing as winter straggles out the back door leaving behind a trail of grayed snow, salty sidewalks and a brown, tired landscape. The birds sing in celebration as Spring bursts off the front porch, greening grasses, pushing snowdrops and hyacinths through cold mud, and bringing warmer winds to melt petrified parking lot ice heaps.

I must admit I am happy to see any season transition to the next. Each season plays a part in a cycle, a rhythm. Our God is a process God. From seed, sprout, growth, bud, flower and fruit, each part of a plant’s existence has a purpose, a time and is necessary in the natural progression of life. The same can be said about human development. From egg to embryo to infant and child, then adolescent and adult, each stage has a time and purpose. We continuously grow to the next state of being.

The angel said to the women, “Do not be afraid, for I know that you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified. He is not here; he has risen, just as he said. Come and see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples: ‘He has risen from the dead and is going ahead of you into Galilee. There you will see him.’ Now I have told you.” So the women hurried away from the tomb, afraid yet filled with joy, and ran to tell his disciples. Matthew 28: 5-8

This coming Sunday is Easter, a time to celebrate the resurrection of Jesus Christ. It is also a good to examine where you are right now in your spiritual life. It is where you need to be right now, but isn’t where God expects you to stay. God never says, yes, you have grown in Christ’s likeness enough. Have you been in this season a long or short time? Are you moving towards the next steps of your journey? Where is God leading your heart next? What new song can you hear on the soft spring breezes? Where ever it may be, look to it with joy and anticipation.

And he departed from our sight that we might return to our heart, and there find Him. For He departed, and behold, He is here. ~St Augustine

He has risen.
He has risen, indeed.

In Christ,
Deana

Sing to the LORD a new song; sing to the Lord, all the earth. Sing to the Lord, praise his name; proclaim his salvation day after day. Declare his glory among the nations, his marvelous deeds among all peoples. Psalm 96: 1-3